


yes, and

by thisismydesignn



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Acting, Character Bleed, Consensual Infidelity, M/M, Multi, RPF, Threesome - F/M/M, method acting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 16:29:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13217658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismydesignn/pseuds/thisismydesignn
Summary: Elizabeth visits set, and Armie and Timmy rehearse the one scene they've been putting off.





	yes, and

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to hell for this. But, I mean...the chemistry between Armie and Timmy, and how much Elizabeth clearly adores them both...I couldn't resist.
> 
> I feel like there's far more to explore here, but wanted to get it posted before the end of the year (Happy 2018, everyone!), so hopefully it's still worth a read as is.

Night after night rehearsing, drinking eating talking laughing and rehearsing some more, and Timothée knows the taste of Armie's lips, the feel of his body against his own with a level of familiarity he never would have anticipated.

He should’ve known from that first rehearsal (getting lost in one another, lying together in the grass) that this would happen, that they’d get carried away time and again, leaving them flustered, frustrated, but there’s no way he could have predicted this, he thinks—an audience to their intimacy, or at least, not the one they’ve come to expect. This isn’t Luca framing a shot, asking for a specific emotion to play out across a scene; this is Elizabeth perched on the edge of a chair as Timmy straddles her husband’s lap, watching with darkening eyes as she murmurs advice, praise, offering commentary on a performance that’s quickly blurring the lines between fiction and reality.

It’s the first weekend she’s been able to visit set, and Timmy had fully anticipated spending a few days on his own, with Esther or with Michael—but Elizabeth had looked between the two of them, smiled knowingly and invited him out on the spot, disarmingly charming as she told him, “I don’t want to disrupt your usual routine…”

—and here they are, too many drinks deep as they perform the one scene they’ve never rehearsed in its entirety, never dared, though there’s something different tonight, an electricity that sparks, crackles along Timmy’s spine as Armie’s hands slide up his back beneath his shirt. He arches forward, trying to get closer as he leans down to bite at Armie’s lower lip. When Armie pulls away to breathe, Timmy chases after him, desperate in a way he tells himself Elio would be, not wanting to let Oliver stray too far.

He hears a sharp intake of breath and turns just enough to see Elizabeth’s eyes meet Armie’s, voice soft as she murmurs, “He’s so eager, isn’t he?” Her gaze locks with Timmy’s and she bites her lip, offers him an encouraging smile. “Try his neck, just below his ear.” She hesitates, continues: “He likes that.”

Armie’s noise of protest turns rapidly to a moan as Timmy takes Elizabeth’s advice, savoring the hint of stubble against his skin. It’s not a sensation he ever thought he’d grow accustomed to, let alone enjoy, but there’s something about the slight burn that keeps him anchored, reminds him that this is real. “Just like that,” Elizabeth breathes, and Timmy can’t help but smile against Armie’s skin—for the briefest of moments, before Armie growls and laces a hand into Timmy’s hair, guiding him back to his lips with a hunger that’s increased tenfold.

Elizabeth’s words echo in Timmy’s mind as Armie tugs at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, pressing kisses to his collar, his chest: _so eager_ , and he can think _this isn’t us, it’s Elio, Oliver_ as much as he likes but he’s not fooling himself or anyone else as he works at the buttons of Armie’s shirt, grinding down against his lap—

—and, well, maybe he’s not the only one experiencing character bleed.

“Is he hard?” Elizabeth asks when Timmy hesitates. “Can you feel it?” and he can practically hear the wicked smile in her voice as he nods, Armie’s hands settling on his hips, arranging Timmy precisely where he wants him. “Traitor,” Armie whispers, teasing; “Pretty sure that’s my line,” Timmy shoots back, letting his tongue dance across Armie’s lips before he kisses him properly, undoing the final button of his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. He’s less than graceful about it, but that’s okay too, he thinks. Elio doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, so why should Timothée?

A hand slides into Timmy’s hair moments later and he hardly takes note (presses back into the touch, eyes shut, practically purring his contentment) until he realizes: one of Armie’s hands is pressed to his cheek, the other against his chest. He goes still, tilting his head up to meet Elizabeth’s gaze as her thumb strokes gently over the skin just behind his ear, sending a shiver from his chest straight to his cock. “Is this okay?” she asks and Timmy’s torn, wants to say _yes,_ yes _, absolutely_ but he’s not sure where the line is here, if there’s a line at all or if they crossed it long ago. Armie’s hand drops down to his thigh, offering a reassuring squeeze, as if he can hear the panicked rush of Timmy’s thoughts, and Timmy’s grateful. He nods, feeling dazed as Elizabeth smiles and leans down to kiss him—chaste, not asking or offering too much—before joining them on the couch.

“You two look amazing together,” she whispers and Armie kisses her, every ounce of adoration evident in the way they move together, meet one another halfway. Timmy feels off-kilter suddenly, still perched in Armie’s lap as he watches them, feeling his breath catch in his throat. There’s an ache in his chest he doesn’t want to examine too closely, but Armie’s hand finds its way to his, lacing their fingers together, and the ease that spreads through him is almost as immediate, quieting the anxious murmur in his mind.

It occurs to Timmy that for all their blurred lines, they’ve got no excuse for this, no “rehearsal” claims to hide behind. Armie turns back to him and Timmy can taste her on his lips; he reaches out to Elizabeth to find her reaching back, and knows whatever’s unfolding here is something else altogether—

—but Armie manhandles him back against the couch, his mouth against Timmy’s stomach distracting, intoxicating, and it would take a stronger man than him (or, if he’s keeping up with the charade, Elio) to say no to this, to them. Two beautiful people who love each other, who, somehow, want _him_ …

He thinks, suddenly, wildly, of a game he’s played countless times, an improv activity he knows all too well. _Yes, and…_

Armie’s hands at his belt, Elizabeth’s lips pressed to his forehead, praise whispered against his skin: (yes, and) all he wants is more. Wants to know what comes next, to take everything they have to offer and give even more, and if that means all of him, hell, it might just be worth it.


End file.
